


Happy Halloween, Mr. Wonka!

by marie_deneuve



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Halloween, Wonka not knowing how to cope with said trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve/pseuds/marie_deneuve
Summary: Willy Wonka does not celebrate Halloween, and he would really prefer to be left alone about it.
Kudos: 14





	Happy Halloween, Mr. Wonka!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! It is very clearly not Halloween anymore, but in 2020, it's like we're in a parallel cursed timeline anyway, so I figured I could get away with it.
> 
> This was actually a short piece that was posted to my tumblr on Halloween, but I forgot to upload it somewhere in the mix, so I'm fixing that mistake now! This one is very Wonka-centric, and a little more on the melancholy side this time.
> 
> In any case, I hope you all enjoy!

Heavy machinery whirs quietly all around. Some gadgets emit soft clouds of vapor, which float listlessly toward the high ceilings of the Inventing Room like restless spirits. Phosphorescent light filters through the haze, making long shadows dance in the corners of the room. Since the sun has already gone down and factory operation hours are over, the Oompa-Loompas are absent, meaning that there is no music, no dancing—only the droning hum of technology.

_An eerie combination, indeed_ , thinks Wonka sourly. _Such a nuisance_.

Charlie is preparing to leave for his annual trick-or-treating expedition, and when he asked earlier if Wonka would join him, Wonka had excused himself. _I just need to tie up a few loose ends in the Inventing Room_ , he had claimed, pointedly ignoring his teenage ward's crestfallen expression. _You go and enjoy yourself, Charlie. A boy your age shouldn't be stuck working on Halloween, of all nights!_

The Halloween season is always a busy one for the factory. That much should be obvious, given the long-standing tradition of trick-or-treating. A tradition which allows even kids who normally have nothing to indulge in an overabundance of candy for one glorious night. A tradition which Wonka himself took part in as a child, _in his family's own unique way…_

His gloved hands twitch, and he remembers what he is supposed to be doing. Well, pretending to be doing, really. He reaches for the spoon to his right, and stirs the mixture before him with more force than necessary.

The tradition of trick-or-treating expressly demands candy production be at an all-time high for the year. He has already met his surplus production goal, and the sales numbers reflect that this is a wise investment. Things are truly going swimmingly. All things considered, he thinks he _should_ be in a great mood. He should be kicking back and relaxing, instead of throwing together this... _whatever_ this is, just so that he has something to keep his hands and mind occupied with anything but Halloween.

"Milk powder...where is the milk powder?" he mutters to himself as he scans his table of various ingredients.

"Here it is, Mr. Wonka."

Not expecting any sort of response, Wonka lets out an embarrassingly shrill scream. Brandishing his cane and spinning on his heel toward the source of the voice, he comes face to face with...Eliza Weber, his assistant.

Free hand clutching at his heart, which is now racing faster than a hummingbird's, Wonka desperately attempts to get his breathing under control. He lowers the cane warily, leveling the young woman and the container of milk powder she offers him with a scowl. Finally, he stretches out his arm and snatches it from her.

The whole time, she has the audacity, the absolute _gall_ , to look completely unaffected by his outburst. "I apologize if I startled you. I did knock."

Eliza is not only Wonka's assistant, but she is also Charlie's teacher. She has only been a part of factory life for a few months, but has already proven herself to be his finest employee. Some of it can be attributed to her height advantage over the Oompa-Loompas, although she is exceedingly petite herself. She is wildly intelligent, adept in mechanical design, and regimented as all get out. In addition, her loyalty and perseverance are unmatched, to the point where it's a bit unsettling.

"Were you planning to use your cane as a weapon just then?"

Her ability to get on his nerves at times is also unmatched.

He takes in her costume, consisting of a hooped skirt with an apron, tightly-buttoned corset, and short lace gloves. Her hair is pinned into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. "And what are you supposed to be, Nanny McPhee?" he retorts.

"Mary Poppins," she corrects him, the insult either sailing right over her head or not bothering her in the slightest. "Charlie invited me to go trick-or-treating with him. I've never been, so I agreed."

Wonka sets the powdered milk down hard enough that some of it puffs up and over the sides of the bowl, coating his gloves in the white substance. "Well, isn't that just peachy!" The smile that accompanies his statement is too pinched, even by his standards.

"Incidentally, that's why I'm here," she continues. "He requested I tell you that we're leaving shortly, and it's your last chance to join us."

He lets out a long sigh, summoning up all the patience he can. "Goodness, I certainly would love to, I'm just so gosh darn busy!" He gestures to the mess on the table behind him. "You know how it is this time of year. You two go on without me, have fun!"

Eliza scrutinizes him. "You seem tense. Do you not want to go because you don't have a costume?"

Wonka simply squints at her, confused.

"I have a contingency plan, meaning I can throw something together for you in a matter of minutes. Your facial structure bears a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp's Edward Scissorhands."

"It does _not_!" He pouts, not appreciating her sneaking up on him and making wildly inaccurate comments about his facial structure. If he bears a resemblance to any Johnny Depp character, it's Sweeney Todd, for goodness sake!

She looks at him like he's taken the wind out of her sails, a small victory. "Very well. I will let Charlie know that you're busy."

She starts to leave, and Wonka visibly relaxes, turning away. Except she lingers at the door, and he can feel those eyes on him. Those big, glassy eyes that seem to pierce through him, all-knowing, like a particularly astute goldfish.

"Permission to speak freely?" she asks suddenly.

"Denied!" he responds right on the heels of her question. He is treated to a few moments of feeling the irritation radiate off of her before curiosity gets the better of him. "...What is it?" he asks weakly.

"According to my data," she explains, "sales are much higher than normal, but it's nothing to warrant the rate at which you've been working the last few days."

Of course, the woman who handles his accounting would call him out on his lie.

"Therefore, I can only assume this has to do with some sort of personal aversion."

Wonka feels his skin prickle. Facing her once more, he asks, "What is your point?" The question comes out even colder than he meant it to.

Eliza at least has the decency to shuffle nervously, breaking eye contact in favor of watching the vapor circling up toward the ceiling. "My point is...at the risk of breaching the parameters of my job description...I am a very good listener as well."

Leave it to Eliza to choose the worst possible time to display some emotional intelligence for a change. The chocolatier stares at her long and hard, choosing his words carefully. "Eliza...why have you never been trick-or-treating before?"

She looks justifiably taken aback. Tilting her head, she says, "My foster parents never allowed it. They believed Halloween was...Satanic." Wonka nearly blinks and misses the subtle roll of her eyes at the notion. 

Wonka thinks that there's something to be said for her never knowing what she's missing out on as a kid. Never having that false hope that _this year, things will be different_. Still, he latches on to his opportunity.

"Well, they're not here to stop you now, are they?" He grins at her in a way that he hopes is reassuring and not as melancholic as it feels, even though his face is starting to hurt from smiling so much. "Yet, here you are, worrying about me instead, silly! You just take Charlie and get out there, okay?"

Looking anything but convinced, Eliza blinks slowly. "...Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Wonka."

Satisfied that she will actually leave this time, he turns his back to her again. He does not answer her, nor does he let his expression drop until he finally hears the sound of heels clicking farther and farther down the hall.

Wonka has had his day in the sun. Or, would it be his night in the moon? At any rate, he no longer has need to go trick-or-treating. No need to celebrate the ridiculous holiday at all, for that matter.

He's all right with that. Sincerely, he is.

Now, to get rid of that mixture he had been working on. He won't bother tasting it—he can already smell how it is disgustingly, revoltingly, irreparably bitter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos, and tell me your thoughts in the comments below!
> 
> P.S. I get up to way more Wonka-related shenanigans on my tumblr! Follow me at https://fudgemallows.tumblr.com/


End file.
